


A New Kind Of Fix

by ThusSpokeRaven



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, American Horror Story: Coven, American Horror Story: Hotel
Genre: AU, F/F, Femslash, Ghosts, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Lust at First Sight, One Shot, Satanic Hotel, Smut, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 15:48:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18013739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThusSpokeRaven/pseuds/ThusSpokeRaven
Summary: Sally has to play nice... she just can't freakin' do it.





	A New Kind Of Fix

* * *

* * *

 

 

Hypodermic Sally stared out the hotel window as she blew the hot smoke out of her mouth.  Looking down she found that she was basically holding a filter and a few strands of tobacco too far gone to handle another round.  Sighing, she crushed it into the ashtray.

 

Sally looked in the mirror.  Little had changed in the years since her death.  The hair frizzed out in a way that had not come quite back to fashionable, but was nodded at as a credible retro look.  The look of angry desperation and need faded from her eyes more and more but was back with a vengeance in that moment. She picked up her little tablet and moved to the bed.  Scrolling through her usual haunts, she found herself rubbing her temple. Nothing seemed to be working for her. She pulled on some clothes and headed to the Blue Parrot Lounge.

 

“I am up against it Iris,” she said as much to the bottom of her glass as to the older woman sitting beside her.  “I was getting better, less desperate feeling but there is something missing.” She looked over. “I know we have this whole kinder gentler crap going but I need the darkness.  Internet trolls just don’t do it for me like a body in a mattress, a demon with a unicorn dick and hearing desperate people tell me anything I want to hear to make it stop.”

 

Liz’s brow rose.  She wiped out a glass and then poured another for the dead addict.  “I was under the impression that you were pulling yourself out of that pit.”

 

Iris shook her head.  “I think she is being adored online, but with no love to make her feel like the center of the universe she turns to past bad habits that did make her the center of someone’s universe.”

 

Sally tossed back her fresh drink.  “Thank you Dr. Fucking Ruth.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Queenie, Misty and Cordelia looked up at the Hotel Cortez.  Misty sniffed. “It’s practically alive. Smells like rottin’ flesh and bile.”

 

Queenie gave the swamp witch a look.  “Damn, girl, I wish you’d been with me the last time I was here.”

 

Delia chuckled.  “It would certainly saved a lot of heartache all around.”

 

Entering they found themselves in a dim and yet rich environment.  The art deco features seem to draw them all to soar even while the dark shadows at every turn threatened to swallow them down.

 

Iris was looking down as the three women walked into the lobby.  “Now who the hell are these people?” She didn’t wait for an answer before heading for the check in desk.

 

Sally caught her breath as Misty slowly turned to look at the ceiling above.  The woman wore gypsy gear like Stevie Nicks and her strange mix of innocence and experience shone so bright that it almost dropped the sometimes poet like a rock.  “The one in the middle is mine,” she said breathlessly.

 

Liz looked at her with a frown.  “Don't you dare sew her in a fucking mattress.  Makes it impossible to rent the room after a week.”

 

Sally smiled as Misty eventually turned her eyes toward the Lounge.  The swamp witch returned the smile only heading off as Delia touched her arm urging her to the desk where Iris was about to greet them.  

 

The poet dropped her glass and the crumpled still full pack of cigarettes on a nearby table.  She hurried away. Liz sighed and picked up the glass and the pack. ‘A Grunge poet-prostitute fashion accident and a Stevie Nicks wanna be.  I may need psychiatric medication by the time this is over.” She went back to the bar and picked her copy of World Without End and went back to reading.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Queenie was agitated.  Cordelia reached out for her hand.  “We are going to establish the loophole and then go.  No other witch will have their soul trapped here because of what we are going to do.”

 

“I died here Cordelia.  I died badly and then was stuck here playing card games with the boringest dead white guy.  Being here is not on my list of things to do. Yeah, I want to make it so if it were to happen again I would be able to slip off to hell after about a thousand hands of bridge, but still this place sucks.”

 

Misty stood looking out the window.  Queenie and Delia would perform their big ritual to make this place marginally safer for witches.  She had asked to tag along. The swamp witch was happy with who she was, content with her home, not looking for anything in the outside world, but she was a little curious.  So far a deeply disturbing hotel, a dry heat that was just alien to a swamp girl and glimpses of more people than she had ever seen in her life made Misty wonder what the hell she was so curious about.  She looked over her shoulder. There was a girl in the hotel that tickled her fancy a bit though. Maybe she ought to take a look see. “I think you just need to breathe a bit Queenie. There is no pressure to do this right this minute.  Breathe, center and then kick the ass of the nexusy thing.”

 

Queenie smiled.  “Maybe I can do that but someone is staying in this room with me.  I am not going to be snuck up on again. Those creepy homicidal motherfuckers need to move right on along.”

 

Misty frowned.  “I am real sorry but I was thinkin’ maybe I would find someplace less dangerous to crash while we are in town… maybe a park bench or in a crack alley.  This place is burning the hell out of my state of calm.”

 

Cordelia chuckled.  “Queenie and I will stay here and take care of the ritual and watching each other’s backs.  I’ll give you some money to stay at a nice hotel without the evil aura.” She felt a lot better with the idea of Misty elsewhere and safely playing tourist.

 

Queenie frowned.  “If there is a minibar at whatever hotel you end up at?  You better snag me the macadamia nuts girl.” She opened the folder on the nightstand.  “They upgraded the rooms. Maybe we’ll be lucky and they have real food.”

 

Misty grinned.  “I will watch for nuts.  I’ll hole up someplace less killy and see some sights by the light of day.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The swamp witch repositioned her borrowed duffel on her shoulder and started walking toward the elevator.  She thumped her forehead. “Broken.”

 

“Not broken,” came from behind her.

 

Misty jumped and turned.  It was the woman from the lounge.  “You scared me,” she said playfully before frowning.  “You’re dead and not entirely nice,” she noted.

 

Sally smiled.  “And you must be a witch.”  She couldn’t help but be a little disappointed that this could not be a little easier.

 

“I am and I can take care of myself so don’t think you are gonna do me like y’all did my friend.” Misty readied herself for whatever would come.  

 

The poet held up her hands.  “No intention of hurting you.  I… I actually am attracted to you.  Hi. I’m Sally. How about if we go to the Lounge.  We can talk...with an audience.”

 

“Misty,” the swamp witch responded after a long moment. “We can do that.”  She turned and headed for the elevator. Sally got in after her and stood by the other wall.  

 

Sally chewed her lip for a moment as the doors closed.  With the beginning of the descent she made up her mind. She hit the E-stop and turned toward Misty.  She tossed Misty’s duffel to the side and then pressed forward to kiss the witch. The hell of the Hotel Cortez was repetition. Among other things, the same things over and over wrung every last drop of emotional content out of everything so when feeling came it was vibrant, powerful, almost painful in intensity.

 

Misty was shocked at first but the feel of those lips hungrily moving on hers was shaking her awake.  Her tongue brushed against Sally’s mouth as if to determine if they were real. Sally was shaking as her need for this woman grew.  She moved her fingers into Misty’s hair to keep her close as her teeth raked the other woman’s mouth. The moan that drifted out of the witch’s throat was heavenly.  

 

The Cajun witch lifted her chin and leaned heavily into the wall as those teeth and that marvelous mouth moved over her throat. Her hands massaged Sally’s lower back and her hips rocked lightly as her oh so sensitive throat was explored.  The feel of the other woman’s hand sliding across her skin under her shirt made her feel a little weak in the knees.

 

Sally pulled the witch’s shirt up and realized to her delight that the woman was braless.  Her teeth raked on the nearest nipple causing Misty to hiss and rock against her. Her tongue rolled over the bud and she groaned.  She was so fucking wet from thinking of all the things she wanted to do to this woman. Even as her mouth traveled to Misty’s other breast, her hand roughly got the witch’s skirt out of the way.  

 

Cupping Misty’s mound through underwear, Sally’s fingers felt nearly burned by the heat she found.  She slid her fingers in and groaned at the silky wet heat that greeted her. Her mouth returned to Misty’s throat as she slid the pads of her fingers over the labia and then stroked her clit.

 

Misty cried out at the intensity of the touch. She pulled Sally down with her to the floor of the elevator.  She couldn’t care less if anyone wanted it or if there was a camera or anything. She wanted this woman to touch her and then do it some more.  She pulled her skirt upward to help Sally.

 

Sally smiled and nibbled Misty’s lobe before whispering to her.  “You are so fucking wet for me, I am going to make this good for you.”

 

Sliding down, she pulled off Misty’s panties and tucked them in her pocket.  She looked up and met the witch’s eyes. The power of the need and want in that look cleared Sally’s last cobweb away.  She was the center of this woman’s universe if only in this moment and this woman was the center of hers. Dipping her head down, Sally closed her eyes and ran her tongue over Misty’s clit. She smiled at Misty’s very vocal response.  Humming, she leaned in to thoroughly devour the woman. Her fingers slid into the very wet and tight witch.

 

Misty cried out.  “Oh fuck, don’t stop.  Please.” She panted as Sally moved her fingers deeply in her.

 

Sally looked up.  She leaned down and nipped at Misty’s thigh.  “This is not stopping anytime soon."  She went back to Misty’s labia and clit, alternatively rough and gentle, her fingers setting the rhythm of the dance.  She knew that the elevator would not be hers forever but she was determined to make Misty want to stick close. The poet savored this woman’s taste and slowly drew her higher and higher.  The swamp witch rocked against her tongue and fingers as the waves of feeling grew completely out of control. She was crying out her pleasure. Sally looked up to watch Misty’s face as the orgasm ripped through her.  Sally would not let this end anytime soon.

 

They curled together, heads on the duffel.  Their breathing evened out and Sally stroked Misty’s cheek.  “Thank you,” she whispered.

 

“No thank you.”  Misty moved in and kissed the poet.  She tasted an echo of her own desire on those lips.  “Do you usually fuck women in the elevator?” she teased.

 

“I usually bring addicts into a room, let a demon have them and then sew them in a mattress when they tell me they love me.  Not nice.”

 

“Not nice.” Misty echoed.  “Why change a winning combo?”

 

“It wasn’t a win,” Sally admitted.  “It was like the drugs. The first time it fills all the holes and lets you fly.  Later, it does less and less and the holes get bigger, but there is nothing else that even comes close.”

 

“So you want me in a mattress,” Misty asked disappointed.  She was glad they got the dead/witch thing sorted early enough to allow this conversation.

 

Sally shook her head.  “I want to watch you cum over and over.”

 

Misty gave a breathy laugh.  “I don’t think I have an argument against that.”

 

Sally rolled up over Misty, sliding her thigh between the witch’s legs, leaning in to press against her mound.  “Good. I want to take you in every corner of this place.”

 

The swamp witch rocked against the poet’s thigh.  “No demon, no sewing in the mattress.”

 

“Deal.”  Sally nipped Misty’s throat as she pressed her wrists against the duffel.  “But I reserve the right to explore bondage fun later.”

 

“Oh,” Misty breathed out rocking against her leg wet and needful.  “Done.” She met Sally’s lips, this time demanding all that the poet had to give.

 

Sally knew that Misty was not the fix, but she knew that Misty got her out of herself for a time and that was a true gift.  She had promised no sewing in a mattress, but as a poet, she was a creative soul. She growled and pressed her teeth into the spot where throat and shoulder met.  She looked forward to claiming Misty again.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always appreciated.


End file.
